Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Chapter 220 – Knock Knock

Instead, he kept moving.

Another turned the corner—slimmer, faster, blades in both hands and claws etched with poison.

Lux ducked the first slash, sidestepped the second, and rammed Devorare into his gut— Hard.

The blade didn’t just pierce.

It ate.

The moment it touched blood, the weapon’s etchings lit up gold, pulling something out of the screaming demon like a wire being yanked from a machine.

And then—

Lux realized it.

A tiny orb.

Faint. Glowing. Twisting like it had wings made of debt and regret.

It came out of the dead demon’s body.

It floated toward him— and vanished into his chest.

No pain. No jolt.

Just... warmth.

A hit of power.

Of something old.

Something rich.

He blinked once.

[Residual Demonic Power: Absorbed.]

”...Huh,” he murmured.

So that was new.

Didn’t stop him.

He grabbed the corpse, flung it at the next set of attackers—two twin demons wielding blood-chains—and teleported above them as they slashed through their comrade’s body.

”Hi,” Lux said, and dropped like a dagger.

He stabbed both of them mid-air—his blades slamming into collarbones and hearts—and the force of his landing cracked the floor beneath them.

Blood sprayed.

One chain caught his shoulder—ripping through fabric and scratching armor—but it didn’t break skin.

He stepped over them.

Another orb floated toward him.

Then another.

Then two more.

They drifted in like fireflies on payday.

And each one disappeared into him.

Warmth. Tension. Sharp little zaps of power.

He smiled.

Just a bit.

But his eyes?

Cold.

One demon tried to run.

Lux teleported in front of him.

No smile.

No smirk.

Just a dagger straight through the throat.

The scream gurgled.

The feet twitched.

And the orb floated.

[Energy Accumulation. Passive Effects Increasing.]

This wasn’t about power.

Not really.

This was about noise.

And the more he killed?

The louder the underworld heard him.

The more they would listen.

And they—whoever was pulling the strings behind this bounty trap—would come looking.

”Come on,” Lux whispered, sliding one blade free of ribcage. ”Where’s the damn mastermind?”

He kicked open a hallway door, ducked a flurry of enchanted shuriken, and answered with demonic orbs.

Fifty of them.

Glowing. Floating. Spinning like tiny angry accountants owed back taxes.

They flew.

Each one hit a target—

-Boom!

-Bang!

-Pop!

Some exploded.

Some cursed.

Some just bounced off walls before slamming into skulls like spiked dodgeballs of doom.

One demon tripped. Two others screamed. A fourth tried to hide behind a vending machine.

Lux used Teleportation—appearing behind him and slicing his spine open with a casual backhand.

The machine exploded anyway.

Soda everywhere.

He paused just long enough to flick some red goop off his cheek.

Behind him, the hallway was covered in blood, broken runes, and moaning survivors.

He was breathing harder now.

Not tired.

Just wired.

The same feeling he used to get during his academy days—the thrill of a clean job, a swift kill, and loot piling quietly into his coffers.

But this time?

There was no silence.

There was fire.

And a new mystery floating in the shape of greed-wrapped souls drifting into his core.

He moved again.

Corridor after corridor.

Left a trail.

A message.

This wasn’t a man walking.

It was a debt collector in the middle of demon tax season.

His armor was slick now—part blood, part ash.

He didn’t care.

He found a group trying to regroup—a demon warlock, a shield-bearer, a poison-witch. Smart enough to hold formation.

Lux used Abyssal Grasp.

Shadows exploded from the floor.

Tendrils. Sharp. Thick. Screaming.

They tore through the shield. Pierced the warlock’s chest. Wrapped the witch’s legs and crushed.

All three fell.

The tendrils vanished.

Three more orbs.

He didn’t even flinch as they entered him.

[Status: Demonic Power Surge Building]

[Trait: Greedborne Collector – Evolving.]

His boots splashed in puddles of blood as he walked.

He finally saw the vault door up ahead—thick steel, rune-locked, twitching with unstable alarms.

Lux rolled his neck slowly.

Then smiled, this time without warmth.

No more questions.

No more contracts.

Just a vault.

A few more corpses.

And a final answer.

He licked his teeth clean of blood.

Then raised one glowing hand.

”Knock knock.”

And he punched.

No spell. No chant. Just raw strength, demoncore mana surging through his palm like a flaming credit default explosion. The vault door cracked—not open, no, it shattered like glass under debt pressure, chunks of enchanted steel spiraling through the air as the floor screamed beneath it.

The runes flared once—then died.

Inside?

Silence.

Well.

Almost.

The room beyond was lit by chaotic red strobes and framed in the smoke of ruined prestige. At its center, Clone #5 still sat strapped to the throne, looking oddly bored—but the smug twist at the corner of his mouth?

That was Lux’s cue.

He stepped through the doorway like a high-interest loan manifesting into human form—blades dripping, armor steaming and still twitching with rage.

And he saw them.

The self-declared kings of this little livestream circus.

Tarrek—the biggest gargoyle, shirtless, horns chipped, musclebound and twitching. He was pacing back and forth, dual short swords spinning like they were his nervous habit.

”Wait wait wait—no no no no—WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?”

The second gargoyle—Scarn, the skinnier one with a hollow stare and posture like a tax form that had given up—blinked twice. ”That’s... that’s him. That’s the real him.”

The female gargoyle—Miraxa, short but brutal-looking, cracked her neck once, muscles in her arms shifting like coiled chains. ”Tch. Guess we got the wrong one.”

”No shit, Mixa!” Tarrek snapped, wings twitching violently. ”Who opens a vault like that?! That was a vault! A reinforced Vyrak-grade vault! I peed a little!”

The hellhound—Zevra—leaned against the wall, flipping a dagger between her fingers. She was tall, fast-looking, glowing yellow eyes rimmed in kohl, and a spiked collar that looked like it was made of actual teeth. She didn’t panic.

She grinned.

”Oh look. The original’s here,” she said, voice gravel and honey. ”Let’s see if he dies better than the clone.”